


Her Own Worst Nightmare

by Leviusify



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Guilt, Marriage, PTSD, Post Game, Post Timeskip, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Severe PTSD, Suicidal Byleth, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Trauma, self hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:29:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29828433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leviusify/pseuds/Leviusify
Summary: Bernadetta is traumatized after the war. Her husband, Byleth, is her only source of hope and human connection. But the memories of the people that she's killed still haunt her, and Byleth starts to resemble her demons more and more. Byleth can't take living as her own worst nightmare.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Bernadetta von Varley
Kudos: 11





	Her Own Worst Nightmare

Byleth sat in silence in the living room of the small Varley manor. Well, now technically it had become the Eisner estate, as Bernadetta’s father had died during the war, and after Bernadetta married Byleth, she took the Eisner name. As such, the small manor now belonged to Byleth legally, as did the responsibilities of the Varley house’s noble duties. Byleth had taken it well, although the powers of the noble houses had been reduced after Edelgard’s victory in the war. It was late at night, and Byleth was illuminated by candlelight as he rested in a comfortable chair next to a wall of bookshelves. Byleth held his head in his hands, wondering where he had gone wrong in his caretaking of Bernadetta. He missed the nervous girl full of surprises during the academy days. He missed their tea times, all the small gifts that Bernadetta would give him, all hand made, and the ways she tried to cover up her feelings. He remembered the day they first confessed to each other, and how it was the happiest that Byleth had ever seen her, a far cry from how she was now. He remembered after five years when he met her again. She was beautiful, and stronger, more brave than she ever was, the years of his absence hardening her. The first night they were back together, he saw Bernadetta weep for the first time since he had met her so long ago. 

But it seemed now that weeping was all she seemed to do. If it was his years of absence that hardened her, it was the war that broke her. He supposed it could happen to anyone, especially someone with trauma and the psyche of Bernadetta. It was late into the war when they had to take her out of combat completely. She screamed and moaned about the people she had killed, and she constantly wept and shut down, responding only when Byleth comforted her. After the war, Edelgard had quietly removed most of the Varley estate’s social standing and responsibilities. Edelgard was happy knowing that Byleth would go to live with Bernadetta there, to take care of her until she got better. Unfortunately, it had been a while since and her condition showed no signs of improvement. But Byleth would be there for her. He would take care of her, because he had promised her and Edelgard. But that meant most of his nights were spent out here, in the living room, trying to entertain himself before Bernadetta cried for him. Byleth took his head in his hands. He was never good at socializing, and he wasn’t prepared to spend his whole life comforting someone. He just didn’t know how to. As if on cue, he heard a ghastly shrieking from Bernadetta’s room. “BYLEEEEETH! BYLEEEEEETH!” Byleth sighed briefly, before standing up and rushing to Bernadetta’s room. He opened the door to see Bernadetta in her nightgown writhing on her bed like a woman possessed. She clawed at her pillows and struggled against the weight of her blankets, thrashing desperately to escape some hidden foe. She screamed out once more, tears streaming down her face as Byleth climbed into bed next to her. She swung out madly against Byleth, grabbing onto him as if he was her only anchor to the world of the living. She hung onto him desperately, sobbing even harder. Her arms wrapped around his chest so tightly that Byleth could barely breathe. After a while, she finally stopped struggling against the covers and instead buried her face within his chest. Byleth reached out and stroked her hair.

“Did you have another dream?” Byleth spoke.

“B-Byleth, there were dozens! There were so many, and they all said that I had killed them! Byleth, please, tell me I didn’t! I didn’t murder all those people!” Bernadetta said wildly, looking into Byleth’s eyes.

“You’re fine, Bernadetta.” Said Byleth, neither confirming or denying her statement. He continued to stroke her hair, and lead his hand down to her back.

“I couldn’t have killed all those people, Byleth! Not me! Not Bernie! It’s impossible! I couldn’t!” Bernadetta shrieked once more.

Byleth continued to comfort her, holding her close to her as she continued to sob. “It’s going to be fine, Bernadetta, the war’s over. You’re alright.”

Now came Byleth’s least favorite part of the whole affair. After the initial panic wave and screaming had subsided, irrationality would set in. Paranoia, beliefs of persecution, and other terrible effects would come over her in these moments. Not like her normal beliefs of paranoia, which had gotten so much better over the years, before collapsing into the state she was in now, but terrible paranoia that made her think things that weren’t remotely true. Byleth almost felt himself tear up as Bernadetta began. She looked up from his chest into his eyes. Her own eyes widened, her fear palpable. She started to thrash around in his arms. “STOP! NO! PLEASE!” she yelled, desperately trying to escape Byleth’s grasp around her. “HELP! HELP!” She continued to pound against Byleth’s arms which had constricted her in a deep embrace. Byleth couldn’t take this anymore. Oh, he couldn’t take it. Bernadetta began to scream out more. Now was typically when things got worse. “EDELGARD! DOROTHEA! HELP! I-I’M IN TROUBLE! HE’S TRYING TO KILL ME!” Byleth squeezed tighter around her for a brief moment, lost in his own mind. His own delusions. Why did he think that he would’ve come out of the war happy? That moment at the Goddess tower was amazing. He was looking forward to living a life in solitude with his beloved, maybe raising a family together. Not this. Anything but this. Bernadetta shouted once more, this time quieter. “Anybody! Please! Help me! Help me!” before she finally broke down into sobs once more, giving one more thrash against him before finally quietly muttering “Someone, please, save me…” Byleth felt worse than dogshit as he became his wife’s attacker, her own worst nightmare. He felt less than dirt as he held his love in his arms, trying to convince her that he was here to help, but she continued to struggle futilely as she sobbed against him. Her own worst nightmare. Heh. What a thought. Byleth Eisner, son of the Blade Breaker, happily wedded to his love who screamed out that he was going to kill her every single night. Living the dream life with his wife who walked around the house every day like an enemy would ambush her from behind the kitchen counter. Bernadetta Von Varley, success story crippled by war, assailed by imaginary demons every night before a real one walked into her room and restrained her. Byleth Eisner, worst fucking husband to ever exist. Byleth wished he could die when he leaned down to kiss Bernadetta, and she turned away from her as someone would reject the advances of their kidnapper. She had stopped struggling by now. Byleth had his arms around her and wished that Bernadetta would somehow know that he loved her, because every time he said it she would say nothing back. Bernadetta gave one final look to Byleth before she fell asleep in his arms. 

Byleth looked down at the paper at the table he was working on. He dipped his quill into the inkwell and began to write.

“ _ To whoever finds this” _

No. Too formal. Try again.

_ “Dear World” _

So stupid. No, it was wrong. Try again.

_ “For my loving wife” _

Ha. Hahaha! Loving. Sure, tell that to her every night when she tried to fight him off her like it was her last moments alive. Try again.

_ “Bernadetta” _

...Sure. It could work. We’ll go with that.

Byleth looked up. Bernadetta was cooking breakfast. Her fantasies typically didn’t set in by morning, so she was smiling and humming a jaunty tune. He watched as she gave a bit of bacon to a flytrap sitting on the windowsill. She put the food onto a plate and brought it over to where Byleth was sitting. He looked at her and smiled. “Thank you, dear.” Calling her by her name was wrong. He didn’t deserve it. She put the food down in front of him, and then scooted a chair over next to him and sat down. She smiled at him. Byleth felt like he could wither up and turn to ash. She blushed a bit. “I’m sorry for last night.” I’m sorry for last night. She said that every day. She shouldn’t have to. Not with him. Not with anyone. But either way, Byleth continued to smile and reached out to grab her hand gently. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll always love you, no matter what.” She smiled at him. “Thanks, Byleth. That means a lot to me.” She began to eat. Byleth supposed he could take a break too. Immaculate cooking, as always. Byleth remembered back to the days at the academy when they would cook for their class together. He remembered the Bernadetta he knew back then. He remembered the Bernadetta that wasn’t haunted by the war days. She looked up from her plate to him as they ate. “...I might go back to bed soon. Do you want to come with me?” Byleth looked at her and told her that nothing would make him happier. She smiled. She slept a lot, and as a result, so did he. He finished his breakfast and returned to writing.

_ “I’m sorry.” _

Not good enough. More.

_ “I’m so sorry.” _

Yeah. Tell that to Bernadetta at night. More.

_ “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” _

Byleth knew it wasn’t enough, but he couldn’t find the strength within himself to write anything else.

_ “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” _

Okay, break out of it. Try something else.

_ “I’m sorry Bernadetta for being the worst husband you could ever have. I’m sorry that I can’t support you enough. I’m sorry you don’t love me anymore. I’m sorry” _ _   
_ Byleth stopped. He couldn’t write more.

_ “I’m sorry for” _ _   
_ Come on. Be a man. Finish it out. Come on, just DO IT.

_ “I’m sorry for being your worst enemy. I’m sorry for hurting you more than any army ever could. I’m sorry for being the worst person you know. I’m sorry because when we lay together at night, it’s like the worst moments of the war all over again.” _

Byleth breathed a shaky breath. You’re doing good. Keep it up. Finish it out. What does she need to do?

_ “Find someone else besides me. A lot of people love you a lot more than I ever could. Seek sanctuary with Edelgard at the capitol. You’ll love it up there, I promise. She won’t turn you down either. She can protect you better than I ever could.” _

Byleth’s hand with the quill was shaking. Stabilize yourself. Not going to be very good if nobody can read it. Finish it up, now. Something poignant.

_ “Goodbye, my love.” _ _   
_ Byleth was too tired to write anything better than that. He looked over the document. A good enough draft, all things considered. Actually, he might just leave it at that. He was never good at revisions, they just cluttered things up. Sure. It would work fine. He’d said everything he needed to say. He put the quill away and went to clean his plate after pocketing his work.

“What’re you writing Byleth?” Asked Bernadetta.

“Nothing much, honey. Just trying to keep my mind sharp.” Byleth looked back at her and grinned. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he had just finished off his suicide note. He walked back from the water basin and kissed his wife on the cheek. “I love you.”

Byleth had been in bed long enough for Bernadetta to fall asleep without him. It was moments like this that he cherished, times where they could sleep in each other’s embrace without Bernadetta accusing Byleth of trying to murder her. He knew she didn’t mean it, but it would be a good fitting last moment for Byleth. One he could cherish. Silently, he struggled out of Bernadetta’s grasp and walked away from the bed. He grabbed his note from his pocket and went to the closet. Opening it and digging through to the back, he revealed an ornate scabbard which housed a holy relic: The sword of the creator. He went to the living room and sat down at the table. The sword of a creator was an extremely powerful blade that was formed out of interlocked chains that could easily unfold to extend the sword’s reach greatly. The sword itself also had many magical properties tied to it: Mostly the fact that it burned like hell. The sword could easily cauterize the wound it created instantly. Byleth carefully laid out the note on the table in front of him. Standing up in front of his chair, Byleth plunged the holy relic into his stomach. He screamed in pure agony.

Shit.

He hadn’t meant to do that.

He didn’t have much time to think about it, though.

Bernadetta. His Bernadetta. Lovely, timid, brave Bernadetta. Bernie. Bernadetta, who would try to scream and run from him every night. Lovely, lovely, Bernadetta. His very own.

  
  


Byleth awoke. It didn’t matter where, what mattered was that Byleth awoke, and that means that he’d screwed up somehow. Byleth sighed, and tried to get up to get his sword, to find that it hurt to move. He’d have to wait a bit. He decided to take in his surroundings. The Varley (Eisner) estate was near the imperial capital. He was most likely in some sort of hospital there. The place reminded him of Manuela’s infirmary, but clearly more supplied and refined. Byleth looked at himself. He was shirtless, with a layer of bandages wrapped around his stomach area. The bandages were bloody. He was sitting on a hospital bed. There was a drawer next to him presumably filled with medicine. There was a mirror in the room. There was a larger cabinet behind a desk likely filled with more medicine. There were curtains set up between each bed. Most of note however, was someone was inside the room. Byleth addressed her, knowing them well.

“Your highness, may I ask about my whereabouts?”

Edelgard looked up from the tome she was reading, surprised.

“Byleth. You’re awake. You had us all quite worried there.”

Byleth chuckled. “What would you mean by us?”   
  


Edelgard responded, polite but nervous. “When we heard what happened, we had thought you had been attacked. An assassination attempt of some sort. Bernadetta had rushed you here rather quickly. If you had been further away, and she was less attentive, you would have been dead.”

Edelgard sighed deeply.

“...Which brings me to why you’re here, Byleth. It’s quite clear you weren’t attacked. I doubt that a common thug could wield a holy relic, that’s for one. The note Bernadetta found was disturbing, to say the least.”

Edelgard looked at Byleth for a while. Byleth looked back, eyes deader than usual.

“Byleth, we’ll be keeping you in care of the hospital staff until you’ve made not only a physical recovery, but a mental recovery as well. We can’t- We can’t trust that you won’t do anything drastic to yourself or someone else until you’ve recovered.”

Byleth cocked his head to the side, as if he was trying to process the information from more than one angle. He eventually came to a decision.

“No. You will not. I will recover to a point where I am in a good position to leave, and then I will go. I say good luck to those who try to stop me.”   
Edelgard twitched. Byleth saw Edelgard as a kindred spirit personality wise, she was cold and calculating, always cool under pressure. It was uncommon to hear her raise her voice, but this was one of those times. She slammed her book shut and stood. 

“Byleth, this is not a debate about how many guards I will need posted outside to contain you, this is about you and your wife. Poor Bernadetta, she was a wreck when she made it here. Barged in the door holding you, more strength than I imagined she could muster, and screamed and yelled at the staff until you were brought to our finest room. Nearly scared the apothecaries half to death when she first got here. She could barely bring herself to leave you alone to fetch me. Hubert told me and I came running. We waited in the halls of the hospital. She finally showed me the note, her hands were shaking. She wept like a grieving widow, which you had nearly just about made her if the apothecaries hadn’t fixed you up in time. Byleth, she talked about how if you were to pass, she promised she would join you in the afterlife, she discussed at length about her failures as a wife. If I didn’t know you and her, I would think she had turned to drink and abuse, the way she described herself. You have made this insecure woman devastated in every possible way.” She shook her head. “Byleth, I was in the war too. I’ve woken up at night with the faces of Claude and Dimitri burned into my eyes more times than I can tell you. She can’t deal with it by herself. She needs you Byleth, no matter how many times she turns you away, she needs you. She loves you, Byleth. It was the first thing she cried to me when she told me the news. You might not be able to see it in her erratic moods, but she loves you.” Edelgard choked. “I wish that I had someone that loved me that much in my life. It’s lonely as the emperor. You are a lucky man, Byleth. Do not waste it.” Byleth looked at her, and down to his bandages. He thought about Bernadetta. How open she was. He thought about the flytrap on their windowsill. He thought about the simplest things. She made him breakfast every morning. She would let him read the drafts of her novels first. She had a little page in each one of her bestsellers that was dedicated to him.

Byleth opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He looked at his hands as they shook.

“Edelgard, I’ve done something terrible. I’m a fool.” He put his head in his hands. “Oh, Edelgard, I’m a fool. Edelgard. I-I did something horrible. Edelgard, Edelgard, what have I done.” His lip quivered. “Where’s Bernadetta, Edelgard? Where is she? Has anything happened to her?” Edelgard perked up a bit. “Byleth, she’s… She wants to see you, but she doesn’t think you want to see her. I mean, by your note, it sounded like you didn’t want to see her ever again. She’s been crying her eyes out in the reception for your entire hospitalization. She asks me for news on you, too afraid to approach you herself.” Byleth strained his entire body, and sat up. The hole in his stomach ached and bled, as he tried to extend upwards more. With herculean effort, he managed to finally sit up in his bed. He breathed heavily, and started to move his legs. Edelgard rushed over to stop him. “Byleth, it’s best if you don’t exert yourself. There's a hole fresh from yesterday straight through your stomach, it’s not the best idea to try to walk.” Byleth mumbled to himself. “Bring me to her. I wanna see her.” Edelgard nodded. “I can’t exactly let you do that, but I can bring her to you. Give me a moment.” Byleth waited.

What a fool he was. Bernadetta would never take him back, he guessed. What had he done. Bernadetta wouldn’t divorce him of course. He knew that. Despite all of her improvements in her confidence, she wouldn’t reject him because she would be too nervous. Hell, he just tried to commit suicide. She knew that if she pressed him further away by rejecting him, he would do more harm to himself. He would end up in a loveless marriage. He would try to love her, and she would respond only because she had to.

As Bernadetta walked into the room, slowly stepping towards Byleth, he couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes. As Bernadetta sobbed into his chest, his hand absentmindedly stroking her hair, as she cried out over and over that she loved him and she would never stop loving them because Byleth was so good to her, such a good husband, that she didn’t deserve, that she was unmarriageable. Byleth didn’t really believe a single thing she said. As she smothered him in kisses halfheartedly received, Byleth thought to himself. Why did people try to lie to him to make him feel better? He didn’t need their support. He didn’t need anything from them. As Bernadetta continued to whisper declarations of her love into his ear, he was barely able to listen.

What a hell he had created.


End file.
